Guns were a constant in my life long before I understood what they really meant. I held my first gun at eight years old, and by all accounts I was a pretty good shot. But in my house, guns weren\u2019t about hunting, protection, or sport \u2014 they were part of the backdrop of violence that defined my childhood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My father\u2019s presence loomed over every room, every holiday, and every quiet moment at home. His anger was fierce and unpredictable. He abused my mother, my siblings, and me. We learned to fear the sound of his footsteps as much as the sight of the weapon he held. No matter how quiet we tried to be, the tension in the house was like a coiled spring: always ready to snap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One summer afternoon stands out in my memory forever. My father was in the front yard, swinging a bat at my mother. I\u2019d watched too many times; the yelling, the shoving, the fear in her eyes. I was tired. I was angry. And I ran into the house, grabbed the shotgun from the closet, and pointed it at him. I told him I was done watching him hurt her. I was ready to end it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mother ran to me, tears streaming down her face. She begged me not to do it. She said I had too much potential, too much life ahead of me, to throw it away in that moment. She promised me life could be better \u2014 and for me, it was the turning point. I dropped the gun and never picked one up again. I don\u2019t know what would have happened if I had pulled the trigger. I don\u2019t want to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mother suffered deeply in her life. But through the worst of it, she taught me patience, resilience, and ultimately, peace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My story isn\u2019t unique. It\u2019s part of a larger pattern that touches thousands of families across the country. The intersection of guns and domestic violence is one of the deadliest in our society.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Domestic violence is already a public health crisis. Add a gun into the home, and the lethality of that violence skyrockets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At the Peace Economy Project, we talk about peace not just as the absence of war, but as the presence of safety, dignity, and justice in everyday life: in homes, schools, workplaces, and communities.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My story highlights a hidden battlefield, one where peace can be elusive even behind closed doors. Too many families live with the fear, trauma, and long-term effects of intimate partner violence. Too many children grow up waiting for the next blow \u2014 emotional or physical. And too often, guns escalate these already dangerous situations into tragedy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Understanding these patterns is essential if we are ever going to break the cycle of violence. Peace is not just about disarmament in war zones. It\u2019s about disarming the harms inside our homes<\/em> and giving survivors the tools to heal, rebuild, and thrive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I dropped that shotgun and never looked back. Today, my commitment to peace isn\u2019t just personal. It\u2019s a call to action. We need policies that:<\/p>\n\n\n\n No child should grow up in fear. No family should be defined by violence. And no gun should be a symbol of power over life or death in a home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Today, my work with the Peace Economy Project is rooted in that moment \u2014 the choice not to pull the trigger, and the belief that violence does not have to be inevitable. Each year, we hold a Valentine\u2019s Day Vigil Against Gun Violence<\/a> to honor those lost to gun violence and to stand with survivors whose stories are too often ignored. The vigil is not just a memorial; it is a commitment \u2014 to policies that save lives, to communities that protect one another, and to a future where no child has to decide whether to pick up a gun to stop abuse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\nHealing, Hope, and Action<\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n
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